


Hold On and Let Go

by orphan_account



Series: No Easy Love [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff and Angst, High School, Ignis is not paid enough for this, Love Confessions, M/M, Pining, Pre-Canon, Time-Skip, background Gladnis - Freeform, brotherhood era, floaty hearts au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-10-05
Packaged: 2019-07-03 00:46:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15807897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: When you fall in love with someone, there’s a tell. Floating smoke-y hearts start erupting around you if you’re in the presence of the person or thinking of them too strongly. It is possible to control them, with emotional training and discipline, but it can physically hurt or feel bad to do so for long periods of time.For Noctis, it’s just something he doesn’t concern himself with.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> HEY SO! im no good with words and even less english words but. this au is my little baby so i couldnt give it up.  
> this is just a prelude for a much bigger thing, i hope youll enjoy (シ_ _)シ

He slams the door harder than is necessary.

That’s probably the first sign Ignis takes to raise an eyebrow at him while he’s finishing dinner by the counter. Noctis resists sighing as he takes off his school shoes and makes way for the bedroom to change.

“Good afternoon,” Ignis says, after evaluating his form a bit.

“Yeah.”

It isn’t unusual for him to be a bit rough around the edges when arriving home on a Friday, a long week of emotional weight pulling down at his wrists and crushing his chest. Ignis knows to expect that sometimes. He knows to expect bad weeks, but that doesn’t quite quell the little bit of guilt creeping up on Noctis for being gruff with someone that doesn’t deserve it.

After putting on more comfortable clothes, he sits down on the set table, laying his cheek on his palm, staring at nothing. Ignis’ phone chimes loudly, but he doesn’t care to pay attention, mind lost while his eyes follow the fibers of the wood barely concealed by the black varnish. The distant sounds of Ignis' conversation registers in the back of his head, words and phrases merging together with the far off clock going tick-tock.

“Alright. I appreciate it, Gladio.”

A plate interrupts the path his eyes make following lines for the Nth time. Noctis looks up to see Ignis finishing his call while bringing the food to the table. The advisor breathes deeply after putting his phone down and Noctis can see clearly the tremble of his hands doing so. It’s been more and more common to see Ignis uncomposed lately and there’s only one reason he can think of.

“You know you can let go when you’re here.” He says.

If Ignis is embarrassed that he noticed, he tries to quickly mask it by clearing his throat. But the slight blush rising on his cheek is evidence enough.

“Very well.”

It’s a sight to see, the stiff shoulders dropping as low as they get. Noctis feels the warm breath of the reddish smoke start to form into hearts, around his advisor’s torso. The man looks flustered by the obvious show of emotion. The hearts are elegantly shaped and sleek, like the owner, and they twist together while slowly ascending before breaking back into smoke and then dissolving. Just as quickly as they appeared, they’re gone again, leaving only the fog stuck in Ignis’ glasses and a slight citrusy scent behind.

“I told you already,” Noctis says while serving himself, “you don’t need to hold back when you’re in the apartment. It’s gotta feel bad.”

It’s been just a few months since Ignis’ hearts started. When they first met, the advisor hated Gladio with a passion. They butted heads every minute spent in the same room, each trying to one up the other. But after the years training and helping Noctis together, the feeling slowly transformed until there was no more animosity. And then it transformed until the indifference became affection. And now here he was, completely enamored. Noctis tried to convince him time and time again that Gladio probably felt the same, but there was no changing his mind. He was adamant on “keeping things professional”.

Ignis clears his throat once more before sitting down, cleaning his glasses on his silk shirt.

“It’s not appropriate. I’m already used to hiding them.”

“That’s because your job needs you to have a stick up your ass. When it’s just us, it’s fine.”

Ignis looks pensive but doesn’t rebut. The change in his advisor when he has to hold his heart inside for a long time is obvious, even if Ignis is the most controlled and disciplined person Noctis has ever met. But that’s the “beauty” of having hearts for someone, according to every teen-zine out there; you’re not supposed to hide them.

A heavy and tense silence falls in the room while they eat. Well, while Ignis eats and Noctis pushes the rice in his food from one side to another. Their dinners aren’t commonly very lively, not when a certain blond isn’t around, but Noctis knows that today he’s exceptionally quiet. He knows the question is coming before Ignis even thinks of asking.

“I take it that Prompto hasn’t—”

“Yeah, he’s still ignoring me.” The prince finally gives up in pretending he’ll eat anything, dropping the fork onto the table.

“I see. How long has this been going on again?”

“A full week today.” Not that he’s been counting the seconds since the first message left on read, no. Definitely not.

“And do you intend on going another week without confronting him?”

“I mean—” Noctis sighs deeply, crossing his arms and slouching in the chair. “I thought I’d, you know, give him space or whatever. Maybe he needs some time alone.” Maybe that’s why whenever he visits Prompto’s classroom during break and lunch, the blond is already long gone, his classmates shrugging. Maybe there's an explanation, he thinks with a frown. Please let there be an explanation. He avoids looking at Ignis’ face, doesn’t want to see the pity look he has.

“Noct, that’s very noble of you. But I assure you, as his best friend. you have the right to ask about his sudden avoidance.”

The silence comes back again, this time slightly more comfortable. Ignis goes back to eating while Noctis taps his finger nervously against his arm. It’s not that simple, he wants to say. He wants to pour all the insecurities Ignis knows he has locked deep inside on the table, spilled for the world to see, but the words get stuck somewhere in the bottom of his throat.

He knows he’s not the easiest person to be around. To begin with, he’s a sad excuse of a prince. Most days he feels like an empty shell, pretending to be a human being and sometimes, when they hang out, all he can do is nap their time away, like a terrible friend. All he has going for him is being royal, but Prompto is too good of a person to take advantage of that. Minus his status, what does he have to offer?

Nothing, he thinks bitterly. It’s good Prompto finally realized that.

He doesn’t notice Ignis taking everything away and putting it in the sink and he startles when the advisor comes back to place a hand on his shoulder.

“Talk to him. I understand that it’s difficult, but it’s better than staying in this limbo state,” he says with a soothing smile.

The prince relaxes a little, “Thanks.” He mutters.

“You’re welcome. Now, if we’re done here, I’ll be taking my leave. I left your food in the fridge. Goodnight, Noct.”

“‘Night, Specs. Thanks again.” After a minute of consideration, he says “And confess to Gladio, already. Seriously.”

He hears the advisor’s faltering his steps, an alarmed ‘excuse you!’ following as he closes the door.

Noctis gets up to go back to the bedroom, feeling dreadfully tired. He’ll probably spend the entire night staring at the ceiling and thinking too much, but it doesn’t hurt to try sleeping. If Prompto could hear his thinking right now, he’d definitely assume he was sick.

The bed looks so incredibly inviting, more than usual. Noctis throws himself stomach-down on the comforter, pulling his phone from his pockets with a groan. Making some swiping motions, he stares at the bright screen, eyes stinging from the contrast with the dark room. The message app stares back at him, quiet and unchanging.

Noct: hey blondie, we still up for arcade tomorrow  
_read fri 20:19_  
Noct: get ready to get rekt at zombie mark 2, ive been practicing ;)  
_read fri 20:19_  
Noct: you better bring out ur big guns lol  
_read fri 20:21_

Noct: wtf this cat is so cute [link]  
_sent fri 21:43_

Noct: specs out my door trying to make me get up send the artillery  
_sent sat 10:21_

Noct: hey prom, everything ok?  
_sent sat 19:44_

After that, he gave up sending anything else. He got stood up on Saturday. Waited in front of The Crow’s Nest for two hours before turning around and walking back, mind empty. Maybe he’s busy, he figured. Maybe his parents finally got home and they went somewhere together. Prompto never complains about his parent’s absence, but the twitch in his smile and the softness of his voice says it all. He’s gotten so good at reading Prompto’s expressions, at knowing what his friend is really feeling. But then Saturday became Sunday and Sunday became Monday and suddenly Noct couldn’t figure out what was happening at all.

“I probably did something wrong,” he mumbles.

He just wants to know what it was, so he could apologize and they can go back to normal. In the past year, Prompto wormed himself into his life so perfectly. He sees the difference in himself. He smiles more, talks more. He still has his bad days, sure, but they’ve become more bearable. Now he has someone that wasn’t forced or obligated to be by his side. Moments where he can truly feel free, young and normal, stupid, silly and happy. A breath of fresh air in between all the suffocating loneliness of the crown.

But none of that matters if Prompto is tired of him. It doesn’t matter at all. Noctis feels his chest constrict. He’s going to be fine. He’s been alone before and he can be alone again. He buries his face in the pillow, rubbing the wetness against his cheeks.

Everything will be fine, everything will be fine, but the more he murmurs the words to himself the more it feels like they’re not real, anymore.

___

The entire weekend went by in a blur. Noctis spent more time in the sleeping world, restlessly turning around in his bed. Anytime he woke up, there were no new messages, no surprise visits, except for Ignis on Sunday afternoon to tidy the house. He could almost physically feel the concerned look Ignis kept sending him every five minutes while he sat on the couch, a mug of bitter coffee growing colder between his hands.

It was a pitiful, lonely weekend, much more reminiscent of the time before Noctis met Prompto. Before he came to know how much a presence can fill a room.

He sighs as the car slowly stops in front of the school. There is nothing more he wants than to slip back inside his blanket and never look at this building again, but Ignis made sure to drag him out of bed and into his uniform.

“Talk to him,” the advisor says, staring holes into him through the rearview mirror.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, closing the door.

The intimidation he feels standing before the gates makes him remember his first day here, devoid of expectations and ready for everything to be over. Somehow, that’s exactly how he’s feeling right now, even if the circumstances are very different.

Gulping down his nerves, he makes it to his classroom. “Get it together, Noct…” he mumbles to himself. He briefly thinks of passing by Prompto’s classroom, just a hallway away from his, but quickly shoves the urge down. He doesn’t want to feel even more pathetic than he already does.

He’s a few minutes early when he walks through the door, his seat the one closest to the window. When he’s just a few feet away, he notices the white square of paper sitting innocently on his table. He mentally groans, picking the note. Not another confession, please. Not while he’s in this state.

Noct,  
Please meet me behind the auditorium during lunch, if you can.  
Prom

His hearts thumps.

It’s an unusually serious tone, beads of sweat start forming on his temples. Is this it? Is this when Prompto finally tells him that no offense but you’re a fuck up and I want nothing to do with you? The rational part of his brain tells him that Prompto would never do something like that, he’s too kind, but his heart runs through all of his flaws in alphabetical order compiling a neat list of obvious reasons for why the blond would hate him.

He crumples the paper and hastily shoves it in his pocket. The teacher is calling them to their seats and Noctis prepares to spend the entire morning trying to calm down his mind and bouncing leg. Classmates keep giving him a weird look, but right now he doesn’t give a damn.

Lunch can’t come fast enough. When the bell rings, Noctis practically bolts from his seat, leaving confused stares behind. He is torn between getting to the auditorium now and not getting there ever. He wants to see Prompto but he doesn’t want to finally meet the problem head on. It’s a complicated mess of emotions and if he trips twice on the way there, no one has to know.

The auditorium building is considerably far from the main classrooms. He pulls on his sleeves nervously while trying to catch his breath, before heading to the other side. Their lunch period is obnoxiously small, barely enough time to finish the food and chill for a bit, so he doesn’t want to waste around too much by hesitating.

He will face Prompto with courage and dignity, even if it’s the last time.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Noctis turns and walks with determined steps to the back of the building, trying as possible to keep his head high and his shoulders squared. He’s going to see Prompto, he’s going to talk to him and ask for forgiveness if he’s gotta, but he’s doing this. He’s meeting him, he is…

… Covered by his jacket?

Noctis blinks.

Prompto is there, under the coming afternoon shadow. He has the uniform black jacket thrown over his head and is wringing his hands with clear anxiety. Sometimes he’ll pull on the green and white wristband and then stop himself almost immediately. It’s… definitely not what Noctis was expecting to find.

“Prom…” he calls.

The blond flinches a little, hands coming up to hold onto the hem of the coat. He turns to Noctis, holding onto the border with one hand while he waves with the other.

“H-hey, Noct!”

“What are you doing?” He tries to keep a serious face, even though Prom can’t see it.

“Ah, hah, one of those bad hair days, you know?” He’s fiddling with the corner of the uniform nervously.

Noctis chuckles, feeling the tension leaving his body, especially when he notices Prompto is laughing to himself too.

“Must be some serious chocobo nest, if you’re going that far to hide it.” 

He tries to walk a little closer, raises his hand to pat his shoulders, like they’d do normally, but Prompto immediately steps back before he can start feeling completely relieved again.

“W-wait. Don’t come here!”

The smile slips off, his hand paused in the air. Noctis sighs and slumps his shoulders. The blonde is shifting from leg to leg and then backing off as if the Prince is some kind of predator, ready to pounce. It breaks his heart, a little. So much for feeling determined and confident.

“So…” He tries his hardest to sound normal and not like he has cried his eyes out the week before, “Something got you busy these days?”

Somehow, even with his face obscured, Noctis can tell Prompto’s biting his lip, “N-not exactly…”

“Hah…” the prince covers his eyes with his hands, defeated, “Then what’s up? Why are you cutting me out? Are you tired of me?”

Prompto visibly flinches with that, seeming surprised, “What?!”

“C’mon, Prom.” He laughs bitterly, staring at some faraway tree so he feels more in control of his feelings “You’ve been ignoring me for days now, you think I’m dumb or something?”

“I m-mean! It’s—that’s!” the blond stammers.

“Yeah. So give me your best shot, I’m ready.” Noctis spreads his arms, “I know I’m a shitty friend. I’m sorry. I want to be better. I’m not gonna sleep so much and… I’ll stop pushing you my vegetables.”

“Noct...”

“I’m sorry if it ever seemed like I was ignoring you or—, or putting my stuff over yours.” He’s very aware he’s rambling, but Noctis can’t bring himself to stop. The words keep flowing out like a bursted dam. “I know you never asked for this shit just ‘cause you’re my friend, so let’s try again, ok?”

“I love you.”

He breathes in sharply.

“W-what…” The Prince opens his mouth a few times, widening his eyes, his apologies forgotten, “What… did you say?”

“I-I… have the hearts for you,” Prompto says, pulling the jacket even closer to himself, trying to cover a sudden red tint that leaks from down the fabric.

Noctis stares.

He stares at the red fog slowly slipping out, stares at the black cloth pulled over the blond’s head. The puzzle pieces slowly start fitting into each other. Not hanging out in the arcade, calling him to the auditorium, way removed from the main buildings, escaping quickly every time he visited his classroom.

“I have the hearts for you,” the blond says, voice steadier than before, “That’s… That’s why I asked to see you here. To—to tell you.”

He briefly thinks of Ignis, unable to manage himself. Ignis, the most controlled person Noctis knows. And then Prompto, full of enthusiasm and liveliness Prompto, trying to hold back something like this.

“I can’t believe that you thought…” Prompto huffs, shaking his head below the jacket, “I never thought of you as a bad friend or high-maintenance. It doesn’t bother me if you have princely duties or if you feel tired sometimes, or if you don’t like vegetables.” He breathes deeply, “I just don’t… If this weirds you out I totally get it. If you come to hate me, it’s fine. I just need you to know because I can’t hide it. I-it’s impossible.”

“That’s what you were worried about?” Noctis asks softly, seeing things from a very different perspective.

“That’s…” the blond whispers, “that’s what I always worry about…”

Noctis stays silent, considering his friend. If Prompto thought he could get rid of Noctis because of something like that, he was damned wrong. He would never think less of Prom, especially not for having genuine feelings. 

The prince takes a small step and then one more. This time, the blond doesn’t move, waiting for whatever Noctis will have decided.

“Prom…” he says, running his fingers on the seam of the other’s black uniform, “I’m not weirded out. I’m glad you’re telling me. This won’t ever make me hate you or throw you out. You got me for the long run, right?”

Prompto’s shoulders visibly relax, “Right… And you got me.”

Noctis smiles softly, hand sliding through the fabric until he pinches the hem. He can’t pretend he’s not curious to see. Many girls have confessed to him before, all embarrassed smiles and rosy cheeks. But they never had hearts. Physical attraction is different than true love.

He pulls the fabric up slowly, meeting his best friend’s eyes.

There are floating hearts all around his face. They’re plump and full and look more like weird circles than actual hearts, but they’re still charming all the same. Prompto is smiling shyly, cheeks blushing fiercely and freckles standing out. He can even make out the red of his ears just barely hidden by the blond hair. He lowers his eyes with embarrassment, as even more hearts erupt, slowly escaping the jacket and bouncing happily next to Noctis.

The Prince’s own heart fights a beat or two.

Prompto looks… he looks cute. He looks in love.

Noctis drops the jacket and turns around, an indignant “hey!” following behind, “Let’s go, you still owe me for that Saturday.” He clears his throat.

Prompto runs to his side, the red fog around him mostly gone though the sweet earthy scent of jasmines from his hearts doesn’t leave the air.

“So? You wanna skip?” He asks, putting on the coat the correct way, this time.

“We already accidentally ditched first period, anyway.”

“You’re on, man!” He says, punching Noctis’ shoulder lightly. “Keep dreaming if you think you can beat my score.”

Noctis’ smile just widens, happy to finally be in good terms with the blond again. They bicker back and forth, jumping the school’s wall, red hearts quietly following behind.

___

Well. Naturally, they got scolded by Ignis that night, though he has the impression he went easy on the reprimand. He had a badly concealed smile through the whole lecture, and winked at Noctis when Prompto’s hearts snitched on them.

Noctis blushes, with the memory. At least he didn’t tease them too much about that. Prompto doesn’t seem so over his self-consciousness to handle teasing nicely. He sighs and stretches as the bell for lunch rings. 

“Noct!”

He turns in the direction of the door, excitable blond coming through. Two or three hearts get lost between the mass of students leaving the classroom to buy lunch. He’s grinning brightly and waving.

Noctis smiles, fondness spreading through his chest.

Prompto leans on his desk, telling him all about the new episode of some dramatic soap opera he follows religiously. The windows are open and it’s a nice warm spring day. Floating hearts bounce around them the entire break, but it doesn’t bother Noctis at all.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello um. this changed from three chapters to two, sorry! but i hope you enjoy it c:  
> theres a time skip, just so no one gets confused  
> btw, i forgot to say in the last chapter but the title is based on [this song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2SYO6a6PaTs) which is really really good.

The apartment is cold and dark when he gets back, the same as it has been the entire week. His dirty clothes litter around the floor, the dishes overflow the sink and some take-out packages are left piled on the table.

Noctis sighs loudly and presses his hand against his eyes. Of course, Ignis is too busy doing his actual job instead of taking care of a child like him.

It’s no exaggeration that this month has been the busiest of his life. He spends more time at the Citadel than at his home, only stopping at his apartment to eat and sleep, not bothering to do the laundry or throw his instant dinners waste out. Ignis suggested that he moves back, but Noctis is not giving up the small comfort of his own place. The one place where he is free to breakdown with no one to judge him. Where he doesn’t have to keep appearances with fake smiles and stiff poses.

Dead on his feet, even showering feels like running a marathon. He pulls on the collar of his long-sleeved shirt and brings it to his face, sniffing. Not that bad. It’s not the first time he went days without showering. Sometimes when everything feels too much, he can barely find the energy to brush his teeth or change his clothes or eat any food. It’s embarrassing but who cares, anyway. Taking care of himself is too troublesome.

He throws himself on his bed, half asleep when the ringtone of his phone pulls him back from slumber. Noctis squints against the bright screen, wondering if Specs forgot something but he finds a series of texts instead.

Prom: hey noct! hows it going? think we can hang out tomorrow?  
_sent thurs 08:31_

Prom: its been awhile  
_sent thurs 08:33_

Prom: dude check out this puppy, he was waiting for his owner outside the pharmacy \\( >w< \\) [photo]  
_sent thurs 09:36_

Prom: lady let me pet him and all  
_sent thurs 09:36_

Prom: my days been blessed already~  
_sent thurs 09:37_

Prom: did you have time to get ur daily reward from kings knight? its a special item  
_sent thurs 11:54_

Prom: lol this asshole has been running his mouth about the next ac, what a dumbass [link]  
_sent thurs 15:44_

Noctis scrolls through all the little pick-me-ups Prompto sends him during the day with a small smile. It’s so unfair to his friend, but he just didn’t have the time or emotional availability to respond, each message leaving him more guilty. He checks the most recent ones sent a few minutes ago;

Prom: i hope youre getting enough rest… lol as if youd ever neglect that. but srsly  
_sent thurs 22:31_

Prom: i miss you…  
_sent thurs 22:34_

Noctis tries to swallow around the lump in his throat. He quickly texts back, despite his drooping eyes.

Noct: ugh, can you kidnap me pls? i dont mind living in ur closet  
_sent thurs 22:45_

Prom: lol my own personal goblin. that bad huh  
_sent thurs 22:47_

Noct: even worse. idgi how i can work work work and the next day theres still stuff to do  
_sent thurs 22:47_

Prom: maybe the laws of physics are broken :P  
_sent thurs 22:47_

Noct: must be it. sorry to leave u hanging. ill probably not be able to meet u tomorrow too, sorry  
_sent thurs 22:48_

Prom: dude, its fine. i just worry. ever since ur birthday u didnt get one free day  
_sent thurs 22:48_

It’s true. Since Noctis reached the 20th milestone of his life everyday he gets fetched off to the Citadel, sometimes not even to do anything that important but more like a constant reminder that soon it will all be his responsibility. Even the small and insignificant problems will be weighing on his head. Most days he meets with institutions’ leaders, union workers, participates in councils, political lessons, charity parties, has magical and physical training. 

It’s exhausting.

The worst is that even though he sees his father more frequently now, it’s always during a meeting, during some event where they can’t stop and talk. They can’t simply enjoy each other’s company and Noctis can’t be cruel enough to steal the few precious minutes of freedom his father has when the bags under his eyes grow every time they meet. When he leans heavily on the cane and coughs more often, when he is obviously having trouble hearing and seeing normally.

Noctis hastily wipes the tears that began forming, shaking his head. 

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it. Ignore it until it can no longer be ignored.

Noct: seems like fate is catching up to me  
_sent thurs 22:56_

He pulls his legs close to him, making himself small, holding the phone strongly so his fingers will stop trembling. That’s how Noctis falls asleep, rereading Prompto’s last message until it becomes engraved in his mind.

Prom: ill be with u every step of the way. lets kick fate’s ass together  
_sent thurs 22:57_

___

The warm comfort of his blanket cocoon vanishes, vestiges of a nice dream slipping away. He shudders against the cold setting in and groans.

“Noct, get up. We’re late. Didn’t you hear my calls?” Ignis asks, walking to the windows and pulling the blinds open.

“Ugh, what time is it?” Noctis says groggily, kicking the sheets.

“Six thirty. You have training with Gladio at seven.”

Noctis rubs his eyes, “I think Gladio is a sadist. He definitely gets off on my misery.”

“Well,” Ignis smirks. “I can very much attest that it is not so.”

“Ughhhhh.”

“Now, hop hop!” Ignis swats at him with a pillow. “We have a schedule to maintain.”

Noctis sluggishly moves around, pulling on some pants that were on the floor, not bothering to check if they’re clean. 

Ignis tsks but doesn’t complain, just pushes him away so he can swiftly make the bed.

Noctis stares at himself in the mirror for longer than he should, toothbrush in his mouth. He seriously, seriously, seriously wishes he could beg Ignis to stay home, to get a break, but he doesn’t want to be more difficult than he already is. Ignis has enough on his plate.

He slumps his shoulders and spits the toothpaste out. He looks like shit but he knows that when he gets to the Citadel he’ll receive a full makeover before any public appearance. His face will be caked with foundation and blush powder.

“Come now. I made breakfast before you woke up,” Ignis calls from the kitchen.

Noctis heads there, widening his eyes when he sees a table full of delicious and caloric snacks.

“I thought we were late?” He asks, taking a seat.

“We should never hurry breakfast. It is the most important meal.”

Ignis looks at him a little too long and Noctis knows he’s doing this for him. Some small moments of indulging before a full day of restraining. In all ways, not just food.

The dishes are clean and the trash is gone.

“Thanks, Specs…”

“You’re welcome,” Ignis sits as well and puts some strawberries on his plate. “Here’s your schedule for today.”

Noctis picks up the paper, scanning the first few items and scoffs, “I don’t get it! Why do I even have to do some of this stuff? Meeting designer stylists at eleven? Why do I need to do this?!”

“I do admit some of those seem quite unnecessary. But the royal council insisted to His Majesty that your responsibilities be doubled these past months. They want your participation in as many events as possible. Presumably to get you accustomed to meeting people and making favorable connections.”

“What a pain,” The prince sighs and stuffs some chocolate pancakes in his mouth.

“Manners,” Ignis turns his nose at his display. “If it makes you feel better today you’ll be ending the day much earlier. Your last obligation is a state meeting where the Chancellor of Niflheim and others representatives will be present at 17.”

“Feh Fanfellor?!” Noctis asks unintelligently. He gulps down the food and stares at Ignis. “What are those fuckers doing here?!”

“Having a meeting, seems like,” Ignis answers sarcastically. “Please be polite, they may be here to negotiate terms after all. I told you they were coming weeks ago.”

Noctis grunts before shoving his plate away, “I forgot. Let’s go then.”

They drive in silence, Noctis musing about the day that’s to come. He had no idea someone from Niflheim was coming and he hates it. They are treacherous creatures those imperial bastards. Who knows what they’re here to discuss.

He arrives at the training grounds with a frown and finds Gladio there, clothes changed as he leans on a training greatsword.

“Finally. I was starting to think you were ditching me.”

“As if your boyfriend would let me do that,” Noctis rolls his eyes and picks up some training daggers, continuing from their last session on wednesday.

“Hey,” Gladio challenges, eyeing him warily. “I know you’re stressed and shit, but put all your anger and frustration into your attacks, okay?”

“With pleasure,” Noctis replies, throwing his bag aside.

His deep blue eyes flash a bright pink before he warps.

___

The council chamber is long and pompous. Tall windows illuminate the space, set in the further wall with black blinds pulled apart. The tables are arranged in a circle, large desks slightly curved and aligned in rows. In the middle there’s a higher round table, with maps and indicators strewn around. Noctis has suggested a hundred times that they invest in tablets to make things much quicker, but so far the tech in this room is still frozen in time.

His father is not there yet but that’s usually how it goes. The king arrives later, after giving all parliamentary time to settle. Then they’ll stand up, bow and sit down. His father will stride to the elevated high chair and initiate the meeting, Noctis sitting by one side and his shield standing by the other.

He’s leaning lazily on his hand, clock marking 17:22 when the double doors open. Noctis straightens himself out and smiles in his dad’s direction, but it drops off his face just as quick.

His father looks terrible, it’s the best way to put it. He’s already pale on a daily basis but today he looks white as sheet. His skin is sporting a sandpapery texture. The only contrast is the purple bags below his eyes. It’s obvious that some PR agent tried to cover them with concealer but all the make-up in the world can’t hide his drained expression.

Everyone stands to attention and bows. The king goes to incline his head, a gesture Noctis knows is more his dad’s courtesy than actual procedure.

He doesn’t get that far before tumbling forward.

Noctis flinches badly. Clarus is there instantly, supporting his side and asking if he’s okay. His dad covers his mouth with a handkerchief and closes his eyes.

He thinks he sees blood seeping through.

Noctis takes a step back, hitting the chair with his knees and feeling cold sweat beading in his nape. All the advisors have started to talk and whisper and shout at the same time. The noise pollution is too much in his ears, Noctis’ head spinning.

A murmur that is closer to him than the rest of the sounds brings him out of his trance, “His majesty’s health has declined much quicker than expected.”

“Who knows how much time he has left?”

“He should prepare to abdicate the throne to Prince Noctis soon.”

“The Prince still acts like a child, he’s not ready to rule.”

“He doesn’t have what it takes to manage a country.”

“We might as well be doomed.”

He’s abrasive and disrespectful, he’s not ready.

He’s still lost

He’s not ready.

Noctis is not sure when the voice in his head starts mixing with those around him. He’s putting both shaky hands on his ears, trying to blur out the commotion when someone grasps his wrist. He startles, looking up with teary eyes but it’s Ignis. It’s just Ignis.

His advisor opens his mouth to say something when Clarus’ powerful voice silences everyone in the room. 

“Enough!”

All eyes turn to the king who’s looking a little better, more secure. One of the crownsguard stationed outside brought him a water bottle and he sips slowly.

An older councillor places a hand in his father’s shoulder and suggests warily, “Your Majesty, maybe we should postpone--”

“I will not do that.”

“But--”

“This visit from the Chancellor has been scheduled for a long time. The Niflheim spokesmen are probably already arriving at the Citadel’s entrance. I will not risk losing this talk.”

He softly pushes Clarus back, limping through the room in front of everyone, weak but his face still imposing. He pretends to look better already, as if what happened was just a figment of the imagination and it’s preposterous that they’re concerned about him, but there's an unmistakable shake on his cane.

Noctis can’t handle it.

He walks sharply to the entry, his chest tight. He knows he’s about to cry and he doesn’t want to be here for them all to see it. He doesn’t look at his father again as he goes to step out of the room.

Before he can get too far he hears Ignis calling, “Your Highness!”

He continues marching but his advisor pulls his arm forcefully, “Noct!”

It’s an automatic reaction to just shove his hand off. They both stop. He’s dangling on the edge of a panic attack, breathing harshly through his nostrils. Ignis’ grip on him slacks until he’s free.

“You’re not staying then,” He asks quietly.

“I can’t, Specs. I can’t. Just-” He bites his lips. “I’m going back to the apartment. Alone. You go get something to eat, I know you didn’t have lunch today.”

He feels Ignis’ eyes following him sadly as he turns the corner and the small whisper of “neither did you…” echoes behind him.

He walks to his apartment. It’s a forty minute trip but he doesn’t regret his choice. Walking makes it easier to not think, more than staring out a car’s window. Noctis puts on his earphones, blasting some random pop song from the radio in max volume. Whenever the images of the last hour come up in his head he shakes himself and tries to mouth the lyrics of the song playing, blurring the intrusive thoughts. He’s pretty sure he’s getting weird looks without needing to check.

After what seem like hours the apartment complex appears into view. It’s empty. His floor is the only one being occupied. Noctis remembers being dumbfounded when he was told that, years ago. It was ridiculous then and it’s still ridiculous now, but it’s exactly what he needs in this moment. 

Emptiness.

After shoving the door closed, he stands in the hall for a second, breathless not simply from the exercise. He then heads towards his room. He wants to sleep. He wants to cover himself and be hidden from the world. He wants everyone to forget his existence and never come to get him again.

Noctis lays down completely below the duvet. He rubs his burning eyes until they’re stinging and tender. Until he’s certain he scratched the corner of his eyelid.

The sight of his dad collapsing doesn’t leave him, no matter how hard he tries.

He wants to forget.

He falls asleep.

____

When Noctis comes to himself again, the sky outside his window is pitch black, the sunset already long gone. His stomach is growling loudly. Cursing his bodily needs for waking him up, he wipes the dried drool on the corner of his lips.

Groggily walking towards the kitchen, he not very gracefully stumbles on the shoes left in the middle of the hallway.

“Ugh,” He puts his face in his hands.

That’s when the sound of the toilet flushing reaches his ears. He whips his head up. Maybe Ignis came to check on him? He doesn't know if he feels grateful or anxious.

He’s definitely not expecting to see Prompto coming out of the bathroom though.

“Oh, hey, you’re awake!” He says, brightly. “You scared me, dude. You were totally passed out.”

“Prom... “ Noctis utters weakly. “What are you doing here?”

Prompto walks closer, cocking his head to one side.

“Man, I know you said you couldn’t hang out today, but I wanted to see you even if all you did was sleep, you know? Finally used that clearance card you gave me, too.”

Noctis is aware his jaw is hanging open, but he can’t help it. Seeing Prompto in front of him already makes his spirit feel much lighter but at the same time it’s like his chest is filling to the brim with emotion.

Prompto certainly notices his obvious gaping and touches his arm softly, “Hey, what’s up?”

Noctis throws himself forward before wondering if it’s a good idea, pulling the blond close and tightly. Too tightly probably. He grips the back of his shirt with enough force to make his knuckles white.

Just the feeling of something warm and living against him is enough to make his shoulders start trembling, the memories of today hitting back in full force. Prompto makes an inquisitive noise in the back of his throat and returns the hug readily.

“Noct, what is it?”

He inhales deeply, the natural jasmine scent of the other’s body drifting to his nose, “There was… There was a meeting today…”

“Yeah?”

“And my d-dad… My dad almost passed out.”

Prompto stays silent for a second, before the arms around him tighten much more. He feels one hand caressing his nape.

“But he’s fine now?”

“I-I don’t know. I think so,” Noctis stutters, “I ran away. I couldn’t handle it.”

“That’s fair,” The blond murmurs softly.

“No,” Noctis shakes his head against the blond hairs on his cheek. “You don’t get it. They… My dad was… He was looking terrible. And his advisors started talking about how I’ll have to succeed him soon.”

“Damn, how can they say that right in front of the king? Some snakes.”

“It was shitty, but they’re right,” Noctis sniffs. “Soon my dad will… and I’m not ready. I’m not ready to see it happening but more than that, I’m not ready to be king.” 

His voice trembles, and he sighs before continuing, “I’m not strong enough to rule.”

Prompto stiffens at the admission. Then he says, baffled, “Who cares? Who said kings need to be tough? I don’t want that, I want my king to be kind and gentle and just. So I know you’ll fit the bill just fine.”

He parts a little from the hug, only enough to look him in the eye. His gaze is steady and determined, “Noct, really, you’re the kindest person I know. You are strong and you’re brave. I can’t--” He shakes his head, “You’re not alone in this. You never will be. So rely on me, okay? And on Ignis and Gladio too.”

Prompto pulls him close again, resting his own cheek against the other’s, chin touching his shoulder. The arms around him are tight and firm and so comforting, his hands slide up his back, “There’s no one I trust to follow more than you. Ok?”

Noctis can’t talk. His throat is shut tight with emotions. Swallowing makes it hurt. So he simply nods and rests his forehead on Prompto’s shoulder. He’s going to feel the tears through the clothing but he doesn’t care right now. Right now, he’s going to rely on his friend and on the solid body that grounds him to reality.

Little by little, his body relaxes and the tears stop. His mind is finally calm and he can breathe easily, can talk without breaking. Noctis brings his head up, looking at his friend’s face. Prompto smiles softly when they make eye contact.

“Feeling better?” he asks gently.

Noctis stares at him for a second before he blurts out,

“I want to see your hearts.”

It’s not a response to the question and it doesn’t make much sense. It’s completely out of the blue, but that’s the thought swirling through Noctis’ mind the most. He wants to see Prompto’s hearts. He wants to feel the warmth of the red fog and have the flowery scent intoxicate him. There's a tightening in his chest begging to be let free and somehow his body tells him only Prompto can bring it out.

Prompto blushes, widening his eyes, “Uh…”

“Please,” Noctis leans his forehead against the other’s, eyelids heavy. “Let me see them.”

Prompto doesn’t say anything, he just looks onward, licking his lips. Noctis glances at the action and brings them both even closer. He has no idea what he’s doing, he just instinctively follows the want, the craving in his stomach. He slowly inches his face closer-

And the phone rings.

A loud groan leaves Noctis’ lips as he turns around, taking the phone out of his pocket, “What?”

“Your Highness, your presence is required at the Citadel,” Ignis says, before pausing. “Are you feeling well?”

“I’m fine,” He answers. “But I was there just a while ago, now they want me again?”

“...Noctis that was four hours ago,” Ignis sounds exasperated but also relieved.

“Oh. I slept too much.”

“Of course that’s what happened,” Ignis chuckles. “I’m coming to get you, be ready.”

“Roger,” He blocks his phone and turns around, an apology ready when he actually looks at Prompto.

His eyes widen.

The blond is crouching on the floor, covering his face, but Noctis can still see the bright glowing red of his ears peeking through the messy strands. But that’s not what makes Noctis speechless.

It’d be no exaggeration to say that there are hundreds of hearts twirling around his friend. More pop out by the second, circling his body and reaching towards Noctis, as if calling him forward. The plump round hearts that Noctis likes seeing so much, and that apparently like seeing him as well.

“Prom…”

As if getting an electric shock, Prompto suddenly gets up but looks downwards, avoiding Noctis’ face at all costs.

“I-I-I j-just remembered! I a-actually have something to do, so!” He giggles nervously, the sound more like a sob than a laughter. “So I’ll let you to, um, whatever. I-I gotta go. Bye!”

He quickly picks up his bag that was thrown on the couch and makes his way to the door, covering his face with one hand the entire time as he makes his way out of the apartment. The hearts don’t leave though. They stay where they are, proudly displaying themselves, almost bragging.

Noctis slowly puts his hand on his chest.

Prompto looked so, so beautiful. His lungs feel full of air and something more, bordering on painful and his stomach is tingling. He gasps when a strong lump presses against his throat and tongue, blocking the passage of air. It’s stuck in him and he opens his mouth and leans forward to vomit it out.

He doesn’t though. Actually, what happens is much better. It exhales through his skin and takes form in front of his eyes. The sharp smell of cut grass reaches his nose, a drop of fresh morning dew in between Prompto’s scent.

A heart.

It’s big and long and very pointy. An arrow, is the image that immediately pops in Noctis’ mind. It looks like a sign, saying ‘Here! The one who gave this heart is here!’. A visual marker of the building realization of years that finally snapped.

He loves Prompto.

He remembers in the beginning, the spark that ignited when he first heard Prompto's confessions those years ago, when he thought of it all as cute. From that spark, a small flame blew up, growing the more he fed it, the more he indulged in it. His body feels like a bursted dam, but instead of getting emptier he's getting fuller, drowning in himself and in Prompto.

He stares at the shape with wonder and tries to touch it with his index finger. The smoke twists around but doesn’t dissolve, it’s more durable than that. The heart slowly moves forward, bouncing in Prompto’s heart’s direction and spinning around them. It’s almost like both hearts are courting each other, flirting, afraid of making the first move, but that’s probably just Noctis projecting things.

He smiles and laughs because he’s so fucking happy, the feelings in his heart expand and involve him completely. He runs his hand through his hair, disbelief written in his smile.

The haze has almost disappeared when he hears knocking. He literally skips to the door, opening with a huge grin to see Ignis on the other side. He raises an eyebrow at his joyful expression.

“You’re happy.”

“Ignis!” Noctis pulls his advisor by the hand and swings it. He probably looks like a kid in a candy shop, but he’s to giddy with excitement to care. “Iggy!”

“Yes? Should I be concerned?”

Noctis shakes his head and leans closer, “I got the hearts! For Prompto!”

Ignis gawks, weirdly contradicting his usually cool image, “I... see... Pardon my language, but fucking finally.”

Noctis laughs again letting go of his hand and picking up his keys left on the counter, “Let’s go.”

Ignis smiles softly, “Yes, let’s.”

They ride the elevator to the underground parking lot where a lonely black car is waiting. Noctis practically vibrates the entire time, unable to stand still when he’s so full. He’s full of hearts.

“Ah, I remember when I first had my realization, too. It was very exhilarating.”

Noctis blushes, but doesn’t pretend to quiet down, “Do you know what they’re calling me about?”

“No clue. I assume to give you a rundown of the meeting.”

“Huh?” He turns to his advisor while opening the car door. “So you didn’t stand in for me?”

“No,” He replies. “I too, was quite shaken with what happened to His Majesty.” He smiles at him through the rearview mirror, “And I actually have some more good news to you.”

“Yeah?”

“I talked to Clarus and His Majesty’s personal doctor. They both assured me that today’s episode was not commonplace. Simply a result of the king overexerting himself.”

“Really?”

Ignis hums assertively, “This day ended much better than it started, no?”

Noctis sags in the backseat, sighing with relief. He looks out the window at the water pattering outside, “Right.”

The rest of the drive is silent save for the sound of the rain hitting the pavement. Noctis can’t believe everything that happened. He sends a text to Prompto, a simple ‘thank you’ for being there when he woke up and waiting so long for him, even if he still doesn’t know. He contemplates when he should tell his friend about his hearts, asking Ignis when they park in the Citadel.

“Hey, when will I have time to take Prompto on a date?”

Ignis adjusts his glasses, thinking, “I’ll try to free a spot soon. For now, let’s focus on meeting your father.”

Two crownsguards open the great doors to the throne room, nodding in respect for him. His father is sitting, poised and and composed. Despite the color back on his face and the lack of tension on his shoulders, the king’s expression is still tight. To Noctis, he looks sad.

“Dad!” He says, stopping at the bottom of the stairs. Ignis stands a few steps back, “How are you feeling?”

“Noctis, my son,” The king says, with a tired voice. “I have… an announcement to give you.”

“What is it?” Noctis can sense the somber mood plaguing his dad and straightens his back, serious.

“Today, Niflheim and Lucis have agreed to sign a peace treaty. The signing will occur in a few months, still to be decided.”

Noctis hesitates. Those sound like good news, but why would his dad look like that if they were? 

“What’s the catch?”

Regis breathes deeply, watching carefully his expression.

“Lucis will give up all of its outer territories.”

“What?!” Noctis’ anger spikes up instantly. Of course those fuckers would never agree to something that doesn’t benefit them. Of fucking course. They want a monopoly on the entire world, bending every leader to its knees. And the worst is, they're getting it. 

“You’re giving them Lucis on a silver platter!”

Regis’ sad eyes continue to look at him, “There’s more, son.”

“What?! What more could those bastards want?!”

“You are to marry Lady Lunafreya Nox Fleuret, the Oracle.”

  
  


Noctis blinks.

All the anger in his body seeps out, leaving place for a cold, gelid emptiness.

“What…” He whispers.

“Those are the conditions.”

There’s no other way to understand what his dad said, but Noctis wishes from the depth of his heart that he got it wrong. That his father misunderstood.

“The wedding plan will be properly detailed these next months.”

But another part of him deeply always knew that this was coming. He always knew he would have to sacrifice many things to do his duty. It’s just so incredibly ironic.

He chuckles. He can’t help it. It’s so ironic. No tears well up in his eyes this time. He has no energy left to cry more. Everything’s numb all over.

“Noctis…” His father calls.

He waves him off, staggering backwards.

It was stupid of him to forget, even for one night that he was never free. He was never free to feel things, to do what he wanted, to fall in love. No matter how hard his dad tried to give him an illusion of freedom, by putting him in public school, by giving him his own apartment, by keeping him from royal duties, it was still just that: an illusion. A lie that he fell for by himself.

He wants to blame his dad for it but he can’t. It’s no one’s fault but his. He made himself think he could fly, but when he jumped off the cliff he still crashed to the ground.

“Thank you for informing me,” He says, robotically. “I’m tired. We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

His dad pauses before nodding, sending him off. He turns around and walks away, Ignis following. Only when they’re out of the room, his advisor grabs his shoulders gently. 

“Noct…”

He pushes the hand off and stares at the end of the corridor, thinking. He makes the resolution quickly, forcing himself to be steady. This is what he has to do. His duty.

“Specs, I have a favor to ask.”

“Anything,” Ignis doesn’t look at him with pity but it’s something really close to it.

Noctis’ stomach churns.

“I need you to teach me how you hide your hearts.”

Ignis’ face clears with comprehension. He adjusts his glasses, nodding, “Of course.”

Noctis nods back and walks to the exit, but he crumbles on the floor before getting far. He lays his face on his knees. His shoulders are trembling but he doesn’t cry. He doesn’t. He simply shudders and hides and hates himself.

Ignis rubs his back silently, while Noctis picks his pieces up together again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so yeah, this is actually just a prelude to a multichapter that follows the game :3c construtive criticism is appreciated

**Author's Note:**

> my [twitter](https://twitter.com/cinthMP) where i gush abt promptis on the daily. construtive criticism is highly appreciated :')


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